Alberta Ferretti | yohana
Truth be told, "Zulu" and "Ferretti" are not words one is likely to see in the same paragraph too often, but the designer managed to manipulate the out-of-Africa vibe in such a way that she successfully extended her own design vocabulary. Someone mentioned White Mischief, the cult chronicle of decadent goings-on among the British expat community in Kenya in the forties: If you closed your eyes a little and held your breath, there was definitely something of that saga's steamy languor in Ferretti's clothes, not to mention Guido Palau's tumbling, tangled tresses, which looked liberated by humid equatorial lust. The intaglio slipdresses, the wrapped and tied fuchsia chiffon outfit, the black chiffon gown with the jet bodice: They were all the stuff of decadent, sophisticated nights under the colonial skies. (Too bad about the shoes—they could have stayed home.) But there's got to be a morning after, so Ferretti offered linen silk trenches (again, the beaded collars showing she's on the same wavelength as Bailey), slinky suits in peachy crepe, and—the exotic-cum-sensible kicker—a khaki camp shirt paired with a brown beaded skirt.
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